


choose a god you think is fair

by TechnoSkittles



Series: Sacrilege AU [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Biblical Allusions (Abrahamic Religions), Biblical Reinterpretation, F/F, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced CSA, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, this is one of my darker AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoSkittles/pseuds/TechnoSkittles
Summary: "If God is all-powerful, then the Devil must be nothing more but a darkness in the mind of God. But if the Devil is something real and separate, then perfection is impossible, and there can be no God....except for the aspirations of fallen angels." - Tad WilliamsAnd thus, a vengeful fallen angel sets out upon the world to correct the wrongs ignored by those she once allied herself with, chased with memories and regrets and haunted by the one she once considered a friend. Maybe more.But with the path she's chosen that leads her further down, there isn't room for either of those. Or for compromises.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Sacrilege AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597675
Comments: 44
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW//// MENTIONS OF HUMAN TRAFFICKING AND CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE
> 
> Hey! I wanted to head off this chapter real quick to say there are mentions of human trafficking and CSA in this fic, mostly in this chapter. So for the sake of your mental health, if that stuff triggers you or makes you uncomfortable TURN BACK NOW.

"Are you seeking guidance, child?"

Adora tears her eyes away from the pulpit to face an elderly man, in his late-sixties, smiling warmly at her. He's dressed in clean linen robes, a spotless white, adorned with gold embroidery. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses rests on the edge of his nose, dangerously close to falling off and he squints past them at her, his silver brows raised in innocent curiosity.

She chews the inside of her cheek, hand drifting to her lap to tap against her leg. "Seeking answers, more like."

He nods and looks in the direction of the pulpit. On the far wall a cross coated in gold leaf hangs suspended, glimmering and glinting in the dim lighting of the sanctuary. Intricate patterns are carved into its body, smooth curves and gaudy designs bold and daring against the great expanse of white that frames it. It's the thing that stands out the most, calling attention to itself in a way to draw the attention and remind everyone who gazes upon it of its symbolism. What it means and what it represents, and thus, the lessons it expects everyone to understand and follow under its watchful eye.

"Aren't we all, my dear?" he says, mirth interlaced in his words. A twinkle shines in his grey eyes that reflect gold.

There's a brief silence between the two of them that echoes in the arching ceiling above them. She almost expects him to leave her be, lost in her own musings, and for that to be the end of things. She watches him from the corner of her eye, the way his hands have a slight tremble to them with age, his small smile as he breathes in the sanctity of the space they inhabit. A man in his element. One with undying faith and unbending loyalty to the cross before them.

Adora's pleasantly surprised when he takes a seat next to her on the pew. His bones creak as he lowers himself down and a wheeze of a breath sputters from his lips when he finally settles. She watches him as he does all this, brows raised and eyes assessing him carefully, before she hums in contentment and casts her gaze forward once more.

He speaks first again. "Forgive me if I'm wrong - my memory isn't quite what it used to be, you see - but I don't think I've seen you here before now."

Adora nods slowly, tongue in cheek. "Churches...aren't really my thing."

He laughs good-naturedly at that, seemingly understanding and amused by her response all at once. "So it would be for most of your generation!" Adora's sure that's supposed to be some sort of sly remark towards her, but it slides off her as easily as water from a bird's wing. "But I can assure you, my child, the house of God is for anyone who seeks sanctuary within its walls. No matter who you may be or what you may believe, God welcomes all of His children."

Adora wants to laugh. She bites her tongue instead. Taps more incessantly against her thigh. "That's the thing though, Father. Me and God….we're not exactly on speaking terms. I don't think She'd be very welcoming towards me."

He raises an eyebrow at her word choice - a mixture of curiosity and distaste - but doesn't bother to openly correct her. "And why do you feel that way?"

"Call it a hunch."

He nods again, sagely. As if he knows what she means, has seen and heard it all before. Perhaps he has, in a different sense. But she knows that for as wise as he probably prides himself to be, as knowledgeable he acts, he could never understand her situation. But she doesn't bother with telling him, because ultimately he never would. Very few could.

"God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes when we need Him" he casts her a look, pointed and sharp, "most, he is silent and distant. In these times of uncertainty, however, it is most important to retain faith that He has a plan for us and will guide us through our hardships with a power only He possesses."

Adora hums and casts her gaze about the cathedral's inner hall across all of the empty pews and stained glass windows. "Is that what you tell your congregation?"

He turns to offer her a smile and a wave of heat flashes through her. Burning and hot and consuming and she has to dig her nails into her thigh to stave off the flood from cracking and leaking through the dam. Patience. "It is one of many things I tell them, yes."

"Do you also preach about the sins of humanity?"

He presses his lips into a thin, non-existent line, eyes cast down in thought. "Yes. I warn them of the evils that come to us should we give into our vices. Naturally, we are not immune to sin or temptation, but we have the ability to repent for them and, thus, gain access to the Heavenly gates once we have all passed. That is why God sent down his only son to earth and had him die upon the cross. To save humanity and bless us all with the ability to recognize our own demons within us and expel them."

The corner of her mouth twists up into a smirk and this time she does let out a laugh. "And they believe all of that? _You_ believe all of that?"

He rocks in his seat, hands braced against the seat in front of him. "It is our faith in God that guides us through the hardest of times. The belief that we, no matter what we do, can be delivered from our sins and achieve paradise when we cease to exist in this world." He cocks his head towards her, a deeply saddened look haunting his eyes, darkening them with his sorrow. "Do you not believe in salvation?"

She clicks her tongue and shoves her hands in her pants pockets, kicking up one of her feet to rest against the back of the pew in front of them. "Not for everyone."

"Then perhaps it is your lack of faith that causes such a rift between God and you."

"I think it's more due to the fact that we disagree on a lot of things, but I suppose your way of putting it holds some truth." Then she looks over to him, scanning him up and down, and furrows her brow. "Do you believe all souls can be salvaged?"

"I believe that so long as a person makes the effort to give themselves unto God's bidding and pledge their undying faith to Him, then their souls can be cleansed and saved." He leans in and this close Adora can trace the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and see the quivering of his lip. "Do you not think you can be saved, child?"

Adora actually scoffs at this and rolls her eyes, pulling back to distance herself from him. "It's not me I'm worried about."

"A family member?" he prods. "A friend? Are you here to seek answers not for yourself, but for someone else?"

Adora clicks her tongue and nods. "Right. Almost forgot about that. No, I'm here to receive some confirmation and was hoping you could help."

Delighted at her change in attitude, the priest visibly sits straighter and beams at her. "Of course, my child. I'm happy to be of service in any way I can."

Adora nods and reaches inside of her white suit jacket, pulling it from her chest to make it easier to access. The action reveals more of her bare chest and she watches in muffled amusement at the way the priest averts his eyes. "I know about you. You help run that one orphanage, right? The one partnered with the church?"

He nods, still refusing to look in her direction. "That is one of my many responsibilities as the head of this church, yes. I oversee most of the care of those children and those who care for them there."

"And adoptions too?" She procures a handful of small slips of paper from her jacket pocket, straightening them out and smoothing out the corners that got bent.

"That as well."

"Great." She plucks the first slip of paper, a photo of a smiling little girl - no more than ten. She holds it out to face him in plain view. "So tell me, do you recognize her?"

The priest finally turns his gaze back to her, squinting his eyes at the photo. After a few seconds, a flicker of recognition flashes across his face and he nods. "Yes. She was one of the children in my care. She was adopted a couple months ago by a lovely couple who live in the next town over. Wonderful people." He offers her a smile, unwavering. Daunting.

Adora replaces the photo before plucking another. "And how about her?"

He studies this photo as closely as the first. "Yes, I do. She was recently adopted-"

Adora pulls the photo away before he can finish before shoving another one into his face. "And how about this little girl here?"

He frowns at he looks it over and Adora can see an uneasiness settle in his eyes. They harden to steel and he looks past the photo to look at her, confusion marring his features. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what-"

She pulls out another photo, shoving it harshly towards him. The burning is back, hot and scalding, but this time she does little to reign it in. "And what about this one? Hmm? Do you remember her?"

"I-" he gaze flickers over the photo, eyes shifting in discomfort. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, wetting it with a disgusting _smack_. "Yes."

"Do you remember her name?"

He shakes his head and brings his hands up to smooth down the front of his robes. "No, I...I'm terribly sorry, but I don't always remember the names of the children who have passed through our doors."

" _Bullshit!_ "

He jumps in his seat at her exclamation, eyes wide and positively appalled by her use of language. The priest begins to lean away from her, hands bracing against the pews in an action to rise. "I...Miss, we are in the house of _God_! Such language is frowned upon in a holy space and I'd advise you to watch your tongue!" he reprimands, though his tone lacks the bark to make her back down. She only narrows her eyes at him, shoving the photo closer as he continues to lean away, eyes darting about in an obvious sign of nervousness.

"Her name was _Trisha_ ," she seethes. "She was eleven years old when her parents died, leaving her in the care of your orphanage. And she was just barely twelve years old when you _sold_ her."

"I-" He wets his lips again. "I mean, yes, she was twelve when she was adopted by-"

Adora slams her hands down on the space between them, teeth grit and snarl as plain on her face as the light of day. "Not adopted. _Sold_. To a middle man two states over. And then _he_ sold her to an underground trafficking network. One that _you_ -" She jabs a finger in the middle of his chest, feeling the stutter of his racing heart underneath her fingertip. "-have direct ties to."

There's a moment of hesitation, stagnated by fear, shivering behind his eyes, quivering in his soul. And then his expression hardens and he snaps back, shoulders pulling back. "Those are _wild_ accusations! How dare you come into my church, using such blasphemous language, and spatter my character with your delusions!"

Adora pulls back, a wave of calm washing over her. Staring at him cooly, she asks in a lighter tone. "Tell me, does the name Richard Charles sound familiar to you?"

His brows raise, betraying him, before he smooths them and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "I'm afraid it does not."

She nods. She had expected that answer. Taking the photos and replacing them in her jacket pocket, she digs into the other side of her jacket. "That's funny. Because I'm pretty sure you do. Saw your name on some documents when I grabbed this from his office safe." And then she pulls out a handgun, leveling it between his eyes. "Or is your name _not_ Father Johnson?"

All fight leaves his body as he recoils from the barrel of the gun, shaking as he stares down it, eyes blown wide in disbelief, fear, and complete confusion. "I...how did you get that?" His lip quivers and his eyes glisten with unshed tears, self-preservation finally winning over his code of silence. "What do you want from me? Money? Information?" He's visibly shaking now and Adora wishes she wasn't so angry so she could properly enjoy it.

But enjoyment isn't why she's here.

"Do you know? What happened to Trisha?"

His whimpers tells her he does.

Adora smiles, sickly sweet, malicious and almost foreign, but one she's shown too many times for her taste. "Let me tell you a little story. Might want to get comfortable." Her smile twists and twists and twists, seeping sugared poison, and she can feel the increasing fear pouring off the man before her in waves, lapping at her skin and turning the air metallic. "It'll be the last time you do."

"Please...Miss...I-"

"A man shows up at your orphanage to file the remaining paperwork to adopt this girl, Trisha. The name he signs isn't his. The paperwork he files is only for show. You had it shredded and burned before Trisha even stepped foot in his car." Keeping the gun level at his head, Adora rummages around in her inside jacket pocket for a second, procuring a driver's license and holding it up for him to see. "Samuel Martin. A fake though." She flicks the license at him and it bounces off his chest into his lap. "You didn't even know his real name. You didn't care as long as your people ripped you a nice, hefty check. He was nothing but a middle man, tasked with picking up children and passing them on to the people who _really_ mattered, right?

"Of course, I know his real name. Jake Gregory Hedgeworth. Transport for hire. Able to forge documents, acquire his charges, and move them to where they need to go, undetected, sly like a fox. Untraceable by the feds, his ability to fly under the radar made him a heavily desirable man to get the job done." She pulls out another driver's license, this one spattered along the bottom edge with dried blood. "Shame he wasn't that good at evading me. Might've given his reputation a boost." She tosses that license at him as well, his wide eyes glued to the stained license with an unmatched horror. His lips are moving, muttering something under his breath, though she's only able to catch a few words.

"Oh….oh dear Lord…."

Adora gives out a sharp laugh, grin twisting and fraying. "Oh, I promise, She won't be much help to you right now. Certainly didn't help Jake when I found him. Or any of the kids that you and your people have trafficked without so much as a second thought." She tilts her head. "You know, when I think about it, She's never actually been much of the helpful type in general.

"But back to the story, shall we? So Trisha is in the car, still unaware of what awaits her at the end of this road trip. She's still under the impression that she's about to go home to a loving family, one that will protect and shelter her and fill the gaping hole that her parents' deaths left. She looks out the car window, smiling as daydreams of a normal life and caring parents fill her head, keeping her placated as the hours stretch on into days." Adora's expression darkens and the room goes cold. The candles lit around the room dance and flicker, with no wind, and the electric lights seem to start fading in the background. "But you and I both know that she was never going to get that. Not from the moment she showed up at your door."

It looks like Father Johnson has something clawing in his throat, his lips quivering in an attempt to get it out. Adora decides to humor him for a moment, pausing just long enough for him to reel in some courage and spit it out. When seconds pass and he says nothing, she dives back in, his chance lost.

"A few days on the road and they finally reach their destination. But it's not a two-story house like Trisha had pictured, but a half-refurbished apartment building, the project abandoned when funds dried up in the middle of construction. But it's still in use, illegally, as an acceptance point for all the children gathered up by all the hired middle men across the country. Our buddy Jake here took her in, passing her off to another strange man who coaxes her further inside with a grin full of lies and heart full of evil. And, as we both are aware, this man is your good friend and business partner, Richard Charles. Your job is supplying the children and his is the messier one of getting them past the checkpoint to whoever offers you the highest dollar. But first, he has to prep them. Make sure they past your little tests.

Still holding the gun up, Adora begins to move closer and, in turn, Father Johnson presses himself into the side of the pew. He doesn't make it very far and soon enough, she's over him, straddling his lap with the gun pressed flush against his temple. She can physically feel his shaking now and see the glistening tears laced with fear pooling on his cheeks. She reaches up to swipe some of them away, her touch soft but burning and he winces.

"Now Richard takes her upstairs. Second floor, room 205. A physician is there, gives her a standard check-up, makes sure she's in good health. Trisha sits there and cooperates, but there's something about the man standing in the corner of the room, dressed in a business suit and watching the physician do his work, that begins to unnerve her. But she stays quiet, because she's afraid if she speaks out, that she'll be taken back to the orphanage and lose her chance at a happy life." Adora moves the gun in-between them, pressing the cool metal against the priest's lips and shushes him gently. "So she says nothing. She says nothing during the check-up. Says nothing when the physician gives Mr. Charles the green light. Nothing when she's lead out, down the hall, and into another room where another man waits for her.

"It isn't until Richard walks out and begins to shut the door, when he's leaving her alone in that room and she's moments away from the truth, that she risks one question." Adora leans in close, lips brushing the opposite end of the gun. Her voice lowers and she can hear the speedy thrum of Father Johnson's heart, weak and scared, so brittle that it might give out any second. "Do you know what that question was, Father Johnson?"

The shake of his head is so slight she almost misses it.

"'When can I go home?'" She pulls back to give it time to sink in.

By now, Father Johnson is an absolute mess. His ears are continuously leaking tears, cheeks flushed a passionate red as he blubbers against the barrel of the gun, incoherent strings of words drowned in his unadulterated fear.

"He never answered her. Instead, he left her alone in that room, seconds before that other man descended upon her like the _sick_ _fucking_ vulture he is." The rage that had boiled inside her is beginning to bubble again, quicker and hotter this time. Her whole body is aflame and her other hand, which had previously been resting gently against his cheek, moves down to clutch his throat in a tight grip.

"And as that man took her, _hurt_ her, she turned to someone else for answers. Someone you had once told her was always listening, would always watch over her and protect her as long as she listened and was good." Her grip tightens and he squirms, hands clawing at her wrist as his mouth gapes in hopes for breath. "Through the pain and confusion and tears she turned to your _precious_ God, praying and pleading for an end. An end to the pain. To be saved."

Father Johnson is openly sobbing now, eyes wide and begging, and Adora takes a moment to revel in the irony. "Just as you are now. Just as all the children before her had. But I'll let you in on something I learned a long time ago.

"God isn't listening. She can't hear you right now, praying for your life. She didn't hear any of those children, praying for theirs. And She _certainly_ didn't hear Trisha, praying for someone to help her."

Adora finally releases his neck just as the lights go out with a spark and flash. The flames of the candles around them sway dangerously before reaching new heights, burning with the rage that fuels her. The dim light reflects off the black metal of the gun, the tear-streaked cheeks of the weeping man beneath her, and inside her blood red eyes. She shoves the gun in-between his lips as she can see the terror-filled realization pull over his eyes and cocks the hammer.

" _But I did."_

And then she pulls the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The devil doesn't come to you with a red face and horns, he comes to you disguised as everything you ever wanted." - Oscar Auliq Ice

If there's one downside to being a detective, it's the early mornings that follow long nights.

Ultimately, it's rewarding work. Tailing evil people in the city, gathering evidence to build a case against them, and then putting them away for all their misdeeds so they can't hurt anyone else. Glimmer chose to become a cop to help people, to protect those who can't protect themselves, and to achieve a just world that's been less so to her. Even if she can't prevent every single crime committed, she at least wants to provide people the opportunity of closure, something that had been denied to her when she was barely old enough to even comprehend the world's cruel permanence.

Being a detective is equally frustrating though. Sometimes the bad people get away. Sometimes the evidence just isn't there. Sometimes things just don't line up.

Glimmer's had her fair share of cases that's fallen through, whether due to limited resources or law blockades that prevent her from getting the information she needs. Her captain is a stickler for the rules, though she supposes it's not entirely her fault given that stepping out of line would put her position on the chopping block. Being a captain presiding over an entire precinct is hard. Being a _woman_ captain is even harder because no one believes you're capable of doing your job.

Still, her and Captain Young don't always see eye-to-eye. Glimmer believes that the ends justify the means. Even if she has to defy protocol to achieve those means. Captain Young, well….

"Detective Matapang, got a new case for you."

Captain Young doesn't believe in or approve Glimmer's preferred methods. But she also can't deny that Glimmer's one of the most dedicated detectives on the force, always willing to put in the time or go the extra mile to get results.

It's a precarious situation, but it hasn't blown up in either of their faces yet.

Glimmer gingerly takes the file from Young's hands, flipping it open and scanning through the slim contents. Homicide. Victim: Father Perry Johnson, priest at the St. Peter's Evangelical Lutheran Church on South Ave in the uptown area. Also the place he was murdered. Sixty-three years old, wife deceased, no kids. But he also managed an orphanage affiliated with the church,

There's not much else.

"Forensics is already on the scene collecting evidence and canvasing the place. Take Detective Scribner down to the church and see what you find. Evidence from the scene, potential eyewitnesses, any character statements from people who work there."

Glimmer shuts the file and lays it on her desk, scooping her coffee cup in the same gesture. "And the Scott case?"

Captain Young looks her up and down, lips pursed. "Put it on hold. This case takes priority."

Normally murder would absolutely take precidence over money laundering and fraud, but this is one instance she can't agree with her captain. Even still, there's little use in arguing, so she says nothing.

Instead she gears up to leave, gathering the flimsy case file and walks over to her partner's desk, leaning on it with one hand. "We got a new case."

* * *

The crime scene is brutal. Probably not the most brutal she's been privy to, but an unpleasant sight to behold nonetheless.

The priest's corpse is slumped in one of the pews, chest and floor drenched in his dried blood. Brown crusted blood mats the gray hair on the back of his head, gnarled by the exit wound. More blood had poured from his mouth, enough to drown him if the gunshot hadn't been what killed him.

Glimmer tugs on the material of her gloves absentmindedly as she examines the corpse, taking in every detail she can. Forensics has already photographed the body for later examination and documentation, but seeing it up close and committing what she can to memory - the position, where rigor mortis set in, the pools of blood and where they fell - does more than a set of pictures.

Bow's next to her, grimacing down at the body. "Gruesome way to go."

"The murder was intimate," Glimmer states, gesturing to the gunshot wound. "His killer had to have gotten pretty close to manage that, through the mouth. Poor guy probably knew he was about to die but had no way out."

"That's even worse."

Glimmer hums and turns to one of the on-site forensic specialists who approached them. "The murder weapon was found laying in his lap." They hold up a plastic bag containing a handgun, the barrel painted with more dried blood. "We're going to take this back to the lab and dust it for prints."

Nodding, Glimmer adds on, "Check the registration too. Have you found the bullet casing?"

The specialist lifts another, smaller bag containing a single casing. "Way ahead of ya."

"Good. Put those through as soon as you can. Call me when you get the results."

The forensic specialist gives a short nod before running back to the rest of her team to pack away all the evidence they gathered to take back to the precinct. After watching her go, Glimmer turns back to Bow who's still looking at the body with a troubled look.

"Well, we won't get much done staring at a dead body. Want to check out the neighboring buildings and see if anyone heard anything?"

They agree to split for the sake of time. Bow takes the twenty-four-seven gas station across the street to ask the attendants if anyone noticed anything strange while Glimmer begins the task of tackling the apartment building next-door to see if any of the residents had seen or heard anything.

She doesn't even make it to the entrance when she's stopped by a voice in the alley between the buildings.

"New case, Detective?"

Glimmer freezes in place, head whipping to the source, her eyes landing on a figure leaning against the brick wall of the apartment building. She's wearing a blindingly white suit, pants pleated and suit jacket open and loose, revealing a black tube top underneath. Her hair is pulled back from the front, bangs tucked on top of her head, while the rest cascades past her shoulders. A pair of aviators hang low on the bridge of her nose, piercing blue eyes peeking over the rims.

Checking her surroundings to make sure she's in the clear, Glimmer ducks into the alley, grabbing the woman's hand and pulling them further in to avoid someone eavesdropping. "I should've _known_ you were involved in this somehow."

Adora shrugs and slides her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. "A girl's work is never done."

She wants to be annoyed. In fact, she is a little bit. But there's only one reason Adora would show up at a time like this. "Awfully bold of you to show up to the scene of a crime. You know the whole point of a secret arrangement is to keep it a secret, right?"

Adora ignores her. "I know you know this case is much bigger than it is on the surface. Don't you want my intel?"

Of _course_ she does. That's not the point. But there's no use trying to drill that into the woman's thick skull, so she decides to move past it to keep this business-focused. They both know the drill well enough at this point for them to waste time with pleasantries. "Okay, fine. What do you got? Make it quick, I'm supposed to be interviewing potential witnesses." She looks to the mouth of the alley to make sure they're alone again. "So what's the priest's deal?"

A look of pure disgust crosses Adora's face and Glimmer is almost taken aback. In all the meetings they've had since their arrangement started, she'd never seen such pure, unhindered hatred from the woman like she's witnessing at this moment.

"Child trafficking. Make sure you check into that orphanage of his. Maybe even shut the bitch down afterwards."

Glimmer curses, eyes wide in shock. "How are you so sure?"

It's a dumb question to ask, but it just slips out. And when Adora gives her that grin, sly and mysterious, she knows she won't be receiving an answer.

"I've got my connections. We've been over this, Detective Matapang. Don't tell me you've forgotten the conditions of our agreement already?"

Glimmer sighs and closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Right. Adora gets her the intel she needs that she wouldn't be able to obtain through legal means and opens up new cases for her to investigate people that aren't even on the law enforcement's radar. In return, Glimmer doesn't ask questions about how she gets that information.

And she lets her have free range to handle some of the crooks as she pleases.

It's a precarious arrangement dipped in shadows and gray morals. If any of her co-workers found out...if her _captain_ ever found out...Glimmer would be fired on the spot. Maybe even arrested herself.

But….means to an end and all that.

Still, ever since this whole thing started, she's been having doubts. A bubbling feeling of guilt for going behind her captain's back, drowning in the toiling potion that Adora's brewed. No. No that's not entirely true. _She's_ the one who went to Adora for help.

" _I can't force you into a deal, Detective. I have my own set of rules to follow. Anything that happens from here on out is on you and only you_."

That's what she said at the time. And soon enough Glimmer came to realize that she had a point. She's the one who sought out Adora's questionably-obtained intel and she's also the one who is well aware (or highly suspecting because Adora never concretely affirms her suspicions) that she's allowing a dangerous and known murderer roam freely to do as she pleases.

She remembers the one time she threatened Adora with jail time. Still remembers the chill that was sent down her spine spawned from the low, dark laugh the woman emitted, a flash in her eyes that, Glimmer swears, had a red tint to them.

" _No prison could hold me_."

With a sigh, Glimmer finally cracks open her eyes, looking back to her...business partner? Inside guy? Whatever. "No. I haven't forgotten. Just tell me what you know."

"Well," Adora begins, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I already left you a present on our dear late Father Johnson's lap."

The gun. The forensic specialist had mentioned it'd been left there.

"The gun belongs to Richard Charles. Him and Johnson were partners that oversaw the whole trafficking ring. Find Charles and you'll find just about every other bastard involved." Then she's handing over a slip of paper with a number on it. "Call this number too. Ask the police department about a recent 'car accident'. Victim's name should be Jake Gregory Hedgeworth. If that doesn't work, try Samuel Martin. That's his alias."

Glimmer takes the paper, looking at it for just a second before tucking it into her own pocket. "'Car accident'?" she repeats, brow raised.

Adora smiles, the sort of sick grin that sends more shivers down her back. "Tragic, really. Died on impact. Poor guy swerved off the road and off the side of a mountain. Police didn't find his car until two days later."

She has a hunch that it's not that simple. But she knows better than to question Adora at this point. And honestly? The less she knows, the better. Besides, what's the probability - the _possibility_ \- that she actually had anything to do with it? The number's area code is five states away.

" _I've got my connections_."

Yeah. That's right. She's not working alone. It's the only thing that makes sense.

Her gut says otherwise, but she doesn't know what it's really trying to tell her. So she ignores it, like she ignores all the other fuzzy details about this whole thing.

By now, Adora's sliding her aviators back down over her eyes. "Well, I gave you what I needed. I've got other appointments to keep to. I'm a busy woman, after all." She pushes off the wall and starts heading down the opposite end of the alleyway.

"Wait!"

Adora pauses but doesn't turn around.

"I...I have another case I'm working on, but I keep hitting dead end after dead end." She licks her lips and thinks about how she's been told to focus on the case at hand, but she's worried that if she waits too long, it might be too late. Time is of the essence and she won't have enough of it to work on both cases simultaneously.

Adora's silent for a moment. Then, "What's the name?"

"Scott." Glimmer licks her lips again. "Miles Scott."

This is enough to make Adora look over her shoulder, head hung low. "The politician?"

Glimmer nods. "His business practices are...shady. I think he's funneling money from a charity he runs into his personal funds and other illegal practices. But I can't nail the guy and...his reelection is coming up soon. It's been almost impossible to get anything on him. Dude's locked up tight and hiding behind crazy expensive lawyers. I've been tailing him for months and...nothing." She pauses to see if Adora has some sort of response. She says nothing.

"We need to bring the hammer down on this guy before he gets elected again. By that point I'll have to drop the case entirely."

Another long period of silence. Then Adora faces forward again and says, "My schedule's full enough already. But tell ya what, you focus on nabbing Charles and I'll see what I can do about Scott."

Glimmer lets out a sigh of relief, happy to know that she won't have to drop one case for another. Maybe justice would still be served.

"But!" Glimmer blinks, frozen as she hangs onto the silence, staring intently at the back of Adora's head. "If I'm going to do this, you have to stay out of it." Her head moves as she tilts it back, her grin almost manic. It makes Glimmer go cold all over, limbs turning to lead and heart stuttering in her chest. If she could see Adora's eyes, she's sure she'd see something she wishes she hadn't.

"I'll handle Scott _my_ way, got it?"

Glimmer can only nod. She doesn't ask what that entails. She doesn't want to know.

It's best that way.

And then Adora faces forward again, continuing to head out of the alleyway. "I'll see you around, Detective Matapang."

Glimmer watches her go with a growing uneasiness pooling in her stomach. She wonders if that was the right decision to make after all. Whatever Adora's planning, whatever she's going to do….

Would it be her fault? Would the ends really justify the means?

Absentmindedly, her hand finds its way underneath her uniform, fingertips brushing the pendant resting against her chest. Feels its comforting warmth burning, the ache of the memories it brings.

Of course they did. And that's a decision she's willing to live with.

No matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Bet y'all thought I abandoned this, huh? Nah, just been busy with Pure Feeling. Speaking of, I've also started writing chapter 14, so look out for that sometime tomorrow or Thursday. But I got suddenly inspired to write this again after listening to [Over It (Chinese New Year Remix) by Johnny G ft. Lil HBK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnGPB-ZZ9fs) (yes, it's a tiktok sound, what of it). Plus I figured it's been long enough since I've done anything with this AU so...here we are!
> 
> Gosh I really missed writing vaguely evil/devilish Adora. Forgot how fun it is.
> 
> Also, I bet y'all are wondering where Catra is. Patience, my dear readers. Patience. She'll show her face soon enough.
> 
> Until next time~

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Kicking off a brand new AU with the new year. Probably not the one you all were expecting, but it's another one I've been thinking about a lot lately. I've had the vague idea of a demon!Adora & angel!Catra fic for awhile and have finally started to sort out some of the story.
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you guys think of this so far and depending on the feedback I get, I'll definitely be adding more to this AU (amongst my sea of other in-progress projects).
> 
> Also, if anyone was wondering what Adora was wearing in this chapter, [here you go](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g3/M01/18/57/rBVaHFn1NV-APO4XAAGY_bLt5gM437.jpg) (it's important to me that you guys see this because....dayum)


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